Page 79 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
“Good.” He nodded and— Was that a smile?
No. Not really. Maybe? His scar pulled his mouth offside when he smiled, making him look more threatening than he was. He wasn’t cruel at all, just thoughtless sometimes. Protective of himself. People struck out when they were defensive. She knew that because she did it herself.
“Well, I’ll—” He started to move away.
“Would you—” They had spoken at the same time.
He paused. “Would I what?” he prompted.
“I only wondered if you would be willing to tell me how you got your scar?” She bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t asked. They weren’t so close anymore that he would confide personal details just because she asked.
He shrugged. “Saloon brawl. Owen thinks he’s funny. Not everyone agrees.”
“You protected him?” Why didn’t that surprise her?
“He did it for me once.” He took hold of a bursting cattail, and a puff of fluff scattered on the wind. “More than once, but that’s how we met, when we were boys. My mother sent me to school. I have no idea how she got my father to agree to it. I didn’t go half the time because no one wanted me there. Everyone knew who my father was, but they also knew he didn’t claim me, so they made me a target without any consequence.
“One day a group of older boys thought they’d put me in my place. Owen stepped in and took a beating beside me, but we got our own licks in. We were schoolmates for the next year or so, but he didn’t like it any more than I did. Then I was set to work in the field. We lost touch, and I didn’t see him again until we were in the army.”
“How long were you in the army?”
“Three years.” His expression darkened.
“You didn’t like it.”
“Funny thing about life is you don’t know how good you’ve got it until you’re facing worse,” he said with grim irony. “Things we were ordered to do…” He grimaced and shook his head. “We left as soon as we could. Neither of us wanted to go back to Virginia, so we trapped, found our way to Missouri where I met Clara, and got on with the steamboats. Then Owen talked me into California. This happened shortly after we got there.” He pointed at his cheek.
His scar had turned white against his cold-flushed cheeks. His fur hat was jammed down tight on his head, his coat buttoned up to his chin. His body held the tension of bracing against the wind.
“Do you want to come in and warm up?” she asked impulsively.
“Marigold.”
“Not for—”
“I know that’s not an invitation.” He gave his beard a rub. “What Iwantis to be friends again. I don’t know how to do that. And I don’t want to screw up now that you’re actually talking to me again. So no, I’ll stand here in the cold and answer questions I’d rather not.”
“You don’t have to answer them. This isn’t a trial.” She drew her knees up and hugged them, trying to get more comfortable on the hard rock, but she couldn’t resist asking one more. “Is that what we were? Friends?”
He pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat and frowned into the gusting wind.
“Yes,” he decided after a weighty pause. “The men who are my friends know things about me that no one else does. They aren’t afraid to tell me the truth even when they know I don’t want to hear it. We stand by each other despite wanting to tell each other to go to hell.”
“I did say that to you, didn’t I?” she said ruefully.
He nodded. “Then you stayed to mind my children.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “This isn’t something I’m used to, you know, wanting friendship with a woman. I’ve always been surrounded by men. Women are migratory creatures that move through sometimes, but I don’t know much about them. When I married, I wanted to be a good husband and a good father. I didn’t know what that meant, only that I expected Clara to abide by our vows and welcome me into our bed. I didn’t think much about whether we liked each other, which isn’t to say I disliked her, but I didn’t know her enough to like her.”
Marigold picked up her head. Her jaw went slack with shock. “You want me tolikeyou?”
“Well, I don’t want you to hate me,” he asserted. “I don’t want you to think I’m like your ex-husband. I don’t want anyone to treat you the way he did, and I want to kill him when I think of it, I really do. I’m furious thatImade you feel used and under-appreciated.” He rubbed his beard against his shoulder. “Because you’re a good person, Marigold. Believe me when I say I’ve met the shitty ones. I know the value of the good ones.”
She drew her knees in tighter. “I was really hurt that you thought I would steal from you.”
“I know.” His voice thickened with self-loathing.
“I thought you’d make me leave, and aside from being terrified because I have nowhere to go, I love your children, Virgil. So much.” Latent tears gathered in her eyes, and she couldn’t help the pang that made her voice crack. Her mouth wobbled.
“I know.” His voice was even heavier.
